


Will Never

by SalineSalmon



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, First Love, How Do I Tag, M/M, My First Fanfic, Please Don't Hate Me, Sad Ending, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26645788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalineSalmon/pseuds/SalineSalmon
Summary: Juyeon’s life is a beautiful story, one of symphonic harmony, that finishes with a melancholic ending.orA recap of Juyeon’s life, from the moment he saw the beauty of Hyunjae, to the moment he lost it all.
Relationships: Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae/Lee Juyeon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Will Never

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time trying to write any fanfic, especially angst- so I would love for some suggestions on how to improve! Thank You! :>

I was 23 years-old when I first met you, my surroundings coming to a still as I gaped at you through the café window; your beautiful, platinum blonde hair swaying in the autumn breeze, your pale skin in perfect contrast to the dark scarf adorning your neck, and your smile working in coalition with the falling leaves in order to make my heart stumble and sputter out of control.

We met each other’s gaze through the glass, and I still remember how my brain lost all cognitive function as I saw the blush creep up your cheeks. You walked into the café and towards my seat, looking down and biting your lip shyly as I held my breath in fear of scaring you away. “Hi,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “My name’s Hyunjae,”. 

  


I swallowed the lump in my throat, croaking out, “N-Nice to meet you, I’m Juyeon,” and thrust my sweaty palm forward in a meek attempt at a handshake. You stared at my hand with wide eyes before chuckling and taking it in yours. “Is this seat taken?” you ask, pointing at the empty chair in front of mine. “Yes, please, I would love for you to sit here,” I blurt out, cheeks painted a shy crimson as you giggled softly and sat down.

  


We talked for hours on end, stories upon ideas upon dreams. The smallest kindle of affection bursting into flames of passion within the walls of a smoky, French café.

  


I was 23 years-old when I first met you; I was 23 years-old when I first fell in love.

============================================================================================================

I was 26 years-old when we first traveled together, the hum of the airplane engine numbing my body as we clinked our glasses together in our first-class seats. The sweet mango nectar coated our throats as we relished in the luxury we both worked so hard to achieve. I grasped your hand in mine and stared deep into your almond eyes, my heart beating ten-fold as I get lost in the vast expanse of your irises.

  


You smiled up at me, your eyes forming beautiful crescent shapes as you cupped my face in your hand and pulled me close for a kiss. It was sweet and short, yet it was more than enough for the butterflies in my stomach to flutter out of control and for fireworks to soar within my mind.

  


We spent hours upon hours working and saving to do this together, to enjoy each other’s presence in a foreign country, lavishing ourselves in the comfort of each other’s warmth. All of that for a few days in France to spend with you and I regret nothing.

  


“I love you so much,” you said, adoration dripping from every syllable. “I love you more,” I say to you, sincerity coating my words.

  


I was 26 years-old when we first traveled together; I was 26 years-old when I first realized that I’ll always want to be together.

============================================================================================================

I was 29 years-old when we first moved in together. The smell of fresh paint wafted through our nostrils as we walked through the door to our apartment. I giggled at how you scrunched your nose in distaste, admiring how adorable your features look.

  


You hurriedly shoved your face into my shirt, trying to rid yourself of the stench with my cologne. I chuckled lovingly and placed my palm on the back of your head, with my other hand around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

  


“I don’t like the smell, I really don’t,” you whined with a pout, lifting your head up slightly to look me in my eyes. I smiled widely at you before saying, “I know you don’t baby, I know you don’t,”. I kiss the top of your head in comfort, and breathe in your strawberry shampoo, relishing in this moment.

  


“I’m so happy babe,” I begin as I pat your head, “I’m so happy we get to live with each other after so many years,”.

  


“I am too, babe,” you replied, tightening the embrace you have around my abdomen, “I’ll always be happy with you,”. Reluctantly, I let you go, causing you to pull the cutest pout I’ve ever seen. I laugh and grab your hands, trying not to linger at how your fingers slot perfectly with mine, and start dragging you out of the room.

  


“Come on babe, let’s go eat,” I say, and blush at how bright your smile becomes.

  


I was 29 years-old when we first moved in together; I was 29 years-old when I realized that I would never stop thinking how perfect you are.

============================================================================================================

I was 32 years-old when I was the most worried.

  


You came home from work one day, a lot later than usual, circles under your eyes and hair in a disheveled mess. I tried to walk towards you, only to be met with the harshest glare. I took a step back in shock and only then did the icy look in your eyes turn into one of silent apology. I merely gave you a sad smile, trying to show you that I understood what you meant and the way your eyes seemed to be on the brink of breaking down tore my heart to shreds.

  


That night, I slept on the couch, in fear that you would reject my warmth. And that night, I heard your weak cries from our room.

  


I decided to take the initiative instead, walking up to you the next morning while you brushed your teeth, wrapping my arms around your waist and resting my head on your shoulder, “Good morning,” I whisper into your ear, voice husky from the morning grog.

  


You groaned playfully and shook your head, “Your breath smells awful,” you said, adding in a theatrical gag for effect. Yet, you still kiss me on the forehead. “I’m so sorry about last night,” you began, staring directly into my sleep-induced eyes, “Something happened at work yesterday and it pissed me off,”.

  


“Everything pisses you off,” I retort, smiling the best my muscles were capable of doing with the morning fatigue and chuckled at the glare you gave me. I cupped your beautiful face in my hands and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  


“It’s okay,” you said with a smile, “It really wasn’t anything too big, I can handle it,” you added, winking at me. I felt a blush crawl up my cheeks as you laughed and punched me lightly in my chest.

  


I was 32 years-old when I was the most worried; I was 32 years-old when I realized how stupid I was.

============================================================================================================

I was 36 years-old when I felt pain.

  


I was heading home, in hopes of celebrating my birthday with you today, our favorite take-out food in one hand and our favorite smoothies in the other. I opened the door to a dark and eerily quiet apartment. I saw your shoes outside our door, so I knew you were home. I walked into the kitchen, birthday streamers flung around messily on the cabinets and a cake beautifully resting on the table.

  


But, I would have never expected the sight before me to be so gruesome.

  


You laid there, hair a mess, eyes empty, and a knife embedded deep into a large gash upon your neck. You laid there, pooled in your own blood as pearls of tears dripped from my eyes and the food I was so ready to enjoy was spilled across the tiles. I cradled your body in my arms and at this point, I functioned purely off autopilot.

  


When paramedics arrived at our apartment, when the ambulance sped through traffic, and when the nurses frantically moved you to the ER all became a haze behind my tear-soaked eyes. My shirt still had the prints of your blood soaked into it as my body shook in fear.

  


I rushed to your side as soon as I was allowed to, holding your hand in mine as I sobbed on my knees beside your hospital bed. You gripped mine weakly, smiling ever so slightly with your pale lips. You opened your mouth to speak but I shushed you before you could. I wanted you to rest, to recover peacefully. I kissed you softly one last time before speaking with the doctor outside.

  


I couldn’t handle the grief and guilt I felt when they told me it was a robbery gone wrong. I felt like I could’ve done so much more to protect you. I felt weak, and irresponsible and I felt like I had to make it up to you. And I will.

  


I was 36 years-old when I felt pain; I was 36 years-old when I was blinded by everything.

============================================================================================================

I was 37 years-old when I realized the truth. 

  


I stood helplessly, as I watched your lifeless body dangle from a rope in our living room. It was painful, it was horrific, it was despairing. I felt my throat struggle to swallow the bile threatening to spill. 

  


I felt my eyes strain to keep my vision composed as I wept and wept. And I felt my hands shake as I tried to read the letter you left:

  


_My dearest Juyeon,_

_I love you so much, with the entirety of my being. I love how sweet you are, how beautiful you are, how amazing of a person you are, and I love how much you care for others._

_  
_

_I’ll miss how you smile at me, blush as I compliment you, laugh at everything I do, and just being in your presence._

_  
_

_Life has been extremely hard for me, and I didn’t want to make these your problems. That day when I was preparing for your party and a ‘robber’ broke in, it was all a lie I made to cover up my mistakes. My coworkers and my own relatives in the company have been making life a living hell for me for so long and that night, they told me so many things that overcame me and before I knew it, I rammed the knife into my neck. I couldn’t just leave my job either since my relatives wouldn’t permit my resignation._

_  
_

_I only realized as I was passing out that it was your special day and I tried to hide the fact I just ruined it because of my stupid feelings. It broke my heart to see you so defensive and protective over me because of my lie, and the guilt just ate me up._

_  
_

_I don’t think I can escape the voices in my head now, Juyeon, not after I dug myself so deep into this pit. Please, just know that I would never stop loving you._

_  
_

_Love, your dearest,_

_Hyunjae._

_  
_

I was 37 years-old when I realized the truth; I was 37 years-old when I realized how painful the truth could be.

============================================================================================================

I sit on a chair on the balcony as I scan over the cityscape. The same, gorgeous view we used to watch together when you were still here. The same place laughs were made, banter was exchanged, and tears were shed. I always thought happy-endings came to those with true love, but I guess not everyone’s life is a fairy tale.

  


I pulled a picture of the both of us in France out of my pocket and I felt the tears stain the photo.

  


I was 23 years-old when I first fell in love; and I was 45 years-old when I realized that I’m still in love with you. 

  


**_I will never forget you, Hyunjae. I will never stop loving you._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Also I ended changing the synopsis to make it sound nicer and added some tags as well ^~^


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